'Hey Jude', blasted through the radio as the car sped down the long-deserted road. The windows were rolled up, not just to keep out the slight chill of the March afternoon but also to combat the dust swirling up from under the tires from the dirt road. Three boys sang along loudly to the now familiar tune. Blaine leaned forward from his place in the back seat, belting out with Paul McCartney causing Nick and Jeff to crack up at their friends' antics.

"It's a shame the school won't let us sing this," Nick muttered, still miffed at Dalton's refusal to permit the Warblers from singing 'that undignified rock and roll''

"I'm not surprised though, if my parents found any of my records they would trash them for sure." Blaine said with a sigh leaning once again back into the seat. His voice became higher, obviously mimicking his mother, "it is indecent Blaine, when I was a teenager we only had respectful music on our radio.' The way she talks you would think the Beatles were inciting people to murder. And it's not just the Beatles either; I swear she nearly had a heart attack last year when The Doors were on Ed Sullivan. I was just glad she started letting me go back to Dalton Sunday nights so I could still watch."

The laughter that had just begun quickly halted as the car emitted a strange noise then soon died. Jeff was able to coast down the hill and maneuver the car to the side of the road. "Well, that's just great!" He exclaimed searching the landscape. The roadside only composed of trees and open fields. He looked over his shoulder at Blaine, "Wonderful idea you had to take the scenic route! Now look at us, stuck in the middle of nowhere."

Blaine patted his friend on the back, "Don't blame me man, it's your car that decide to up and die on us."

They piled out of the car and Jeff popped the hood.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked incredulously, "in case you've forgotten none of us even know the first thing about car repair. Dalton isn't exactly famous for their shop classes."

Jeff just shrugged as he bent over the engine, "I don't know I guess I hoped the problem would be evident. Besides, isn't this you are supposed to do when you break down?"

Blaine looked around as his two friends inspected the engine with faux experience. He spotted a few hundred feet in front of them the entrance to a small dirt road. His eyes followed the break in the grass, hoping it was what he suspected. Set far back into the trees, perhaps a mile from the road itself was an old white farmhouse. It was a driveway.

"Hey guys, why don't we go see if we can use their phone?" He asked pointing to the old building neither boy had yet noticed.

By the time the trio trudge up the driveway, having to carefully maneuver around potholes and grass burrs, they were beginning to sweat in their wool blazers. As they neared the house, they took in their surroundings. The side of the house hid an old pickup truck, a chicken coup clucked with life on its other side. A washboard and tub sat filled with murky water under a clothesline with dresses of various shapes, sizes, and colors flapping in the wind. The area was full of life, chickens pecking at the ground, a few goats milling about the yard, and cows mooing from behind the barn. However, they could see no farmer, his wife, or even daughters running around.

Blaine was just ascending the stairs to knock on the door when a deep, sharp voice called out from behind them. "This is private property, I suggest you leave now."

The three boys spun around to see a boy around their age standing with his arms crossed menacingly across his chest. His black hair hung down to his shoulders, framing his tanned face. He was shirtless under a black leather jacket. Dirty worn jeans, bell bottoms, a trend distinctly banned from the halls of Dalton, was the only other clothing gracing his body as his feet were also bare.

Jeff was the first to speak, "Our car broke down, and we were just hoping to use your phone."

"Sorry, we don't have one" the answer was softer, coming from right behind Blaine from the now open door. In the doorway stood a man, his jeans while belled, were crisp and clean. A bright blue mandarin collar shirt with clean, white, intricate embroidery made his pale white skin and blue eyes stand out. His hair was chestnut brown and though not as long as the other man's, swept against his collar.

He stepped out of the door, causing Blaine to inadvertently back away, giving him room to move. "I bet we can help though. Puck, why don't you take the truck down and tow them up so we can see what we can do to get them on their way."

The other man, Puck, seemed to want to argue, but after a pointed look from his friend, grumbled, "Alright, but one of you is coming to help me."

Both Nick and Jeff readily agreed, though Blaine suspected that it was not due to their wanting to help so much as not trusting Puck alone with Jeff's car. Blaine watched them cram themselves in the cab of the truck, Puck rolling his eyes at neither climbing in the bed. Once the truck grumbled to life, Blaine turned back to the man in the doorway. A small smile played on his lips as he watched the truck bump its way down the driveway. Blaine swallowed an unexpected lump in his throat as his eyes traced the features of the man's face.

"I'm Blaine," he spoke finally, holding out his hand to the stranger.

A chuckle sounded before the other man's name followed, "Kurt," but he did not take Blaine's hand to shake. "It will take them a while to get the car back here; I was just going to get the get the others. Do you want to come?"

They made their way behind the house and down a tiny path in silence. Blaine was searching his mind for something to say. "So, something tells me Puck isn't your brother." He finally decided on.

Another twinkling laugh filled the air before Kurt answered. "No, well not my real brother anyway. We are a self made family if you will."

"How many of you are there?" Blaine asked as they made their way into the trees.

"Eight right now, there are two more that sometimes stay with us. Well, they all tend to come and go as they please. The only ones who you can always find here are me, Quinn and Beth."

Blaine knew what this meant; he had had enough friends succumb to love to know the signs. The clear affection in his voice when Kurt spoke of Quinn and Beth he knew one of them must at least be his girlfriend, especially if they were the only other ones here on a permanent basis. "So, which one is your girlfriend?" He asked sneaking a glance at the boy whose face became a mask of confusion.

"What do you mean?" He asked stopping their movement.

"Quinn or Beth, which one is your girl?" He asked again hoping to be clearer.

Kurt chortled, the clear bright sound echoing off the trees. "There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"Hamlet," Blaine exclaimed, probably with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. A faint blushed flared up his cheeks and he couldn't resist the urge to rub his neck as if it would rid him of his embarrassment.

Kurt gave him a dull smile though, "Yes, I am we'll aware. I may be a hippie, but I am a cultured one."

Embarrassment flared again in Blaine, "No, it's just that is my favorite play. Most of the guys think I'm a dingbat for liking it... It was just nice to know I'm not the only one who seems to enjoy the Bard."

Kurt gave him a searching look, Blaine felt as if he was being examined, dissected, and feared he would be found wanting. Finally Kurt spoke, "Huh, who knew prep schools were just as uncultured as the rest of Ohio, hell, most of the nation." Before Blaine could even fathom a response, Kurt's eyes flickered ahead. Soon the trees parted and Blaine caught his first sight of the other farm inhabitants. A large black girl in a long flowing dress swayed in the clearing, singing 'The Sound of Silence' while an Asian couple seemed to be dancing, wound around each other exchanging kisses as no one seemed to pay them any mind. A short Brunette sat behind a blonde braiding her hair. What surprised Blaine the most was the blonde's chest was exposed and a tiny baby was latched there eagerly nursing.

Blaine waited for a surge of emotion to hit him. He had spent the last four years in a boarding school, and had heard many tales over the years of his peers' quests to see the most intimate parts of the opposite sex. True, these tales had never held much interest for him, he supposed he was as his mother loved to point out when relatives would comment on his shorter stature (especially when compared to his brother Cooper) a late bloomer. He had, however dealt with the same problems as all boys, waking up hard or just succumbing to a wet dream. Dreams of faceless, shapeless pleasure, that Blaine could never really remember after coming down from his high. He knew what a boner was, having them spring up on him at the most inopportune times. He waited for it to happen, but it never did. Instead, he felt nothing, and that was what made the blush creep up the back of his neck and color his face.

The blonde seemed to notice him then and pulled the side of her dress up over the breast that was not currently feeding her child. "Kurt, who is the blushing school boy?" She asked dully, raising her chin towards Blaine.

"We have some visitors, their car broke down. Why don't we all go back to the house I may need some help with dinner tonight."

This seemed to get everyone's attention. The Brunette seemed to bristle at the thought, "Do you think it's wise Kurt, we don't know them."

Kurt looked over at Blaine, measuring him up again, "They'll be cool. Just... no last names, just to be safe."

Kurt then turned and began to retreat to the house. Blaine sprinted to catching up with him as the others began slowly gathering their things to follow. "I'm not trying to be nosy, but what was that about."

Without turning back Kurt simply said, "When you live on the edge of society, when people spit hate at you on the street for choosing love above all else, you learn to play it safe." Not another word was spoken between the two.

An hour later, music was playing from a portable record player. Blaine was pleasantly surprised when Rubber Soul drifted through the farmyard as he watched Kurt inspecting the car. He had removed his shirt as soon as he popped the hood and got to work. Blaine couldn't seem to keep his eyes from him as he worked. He tried to ignore the stirring in his belly with each ripple of Kurt's muscles with every move he made. Now ten minutes later, he wiped his hands on the dirty red rag and turned to Jeff. "You know, if you took care of this baby, she could last you a lifetime, but you really need to take care of her. Your alternator is out, but it also looks as if you haven't properly changed the oil in her since you got her. I can fix it, no problem, but you will need to get the parts." He handed Jeff a piece of paper with everything he would need written on it.

"Dang it, how much is this going to cost?" Jeff asked looking at the short list of supplies.

Kurt shook his head, "Not much, fifty bucks at the most."

Jeff looked Kurt over again, "and how much for the work?"

"I don't believe in charging someone for their bad luck. Besides, I won't be able to fix it 'til morning." Kurt said with a shrug, seeing the boys' panic he explained. "It's almost dark, and in case you haven't noticed we are kind of living off the grid; no electricity, no phone, we do have running water though because we have our own well. Lanterns won't be enough to see by to get it done right. If you won't be missed you can crash here with us."

The three Dalton boys exchanged a look, "We were just going to surprise Nick's girlfriend. We are checked out of school for the weekend but none of our parents are expecting us." Blaine spoke up.

After pooling together their money, Jeff went with Puck to pick up the parts, leaving Nick and Blaine behind. Kurt left the yard, pulling on his shirt, calling to Rachel and Mercy. The brunette and black girl followed him in the house. The blonde, Quinn as she introduced herself, sat rocking her baby who was now asleep. The Asian couple, after looking around the emptying yard rushed off hands clasped and giggling, earning an eye roll from Quinn. Nick sat down on the trunk of Jeff's car, motioning Blaine over. Once Blaine was situated by his side, Nick began whispering.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Nick asked.

All Blaine could do was shrug before asking his own question, "Do we really have a choice? Besides what is there to be afraid of, they all seem like nice people."

"I don't know, I mean don't you think it is strange them living here with no modern conveniences. What if they're fugitives?" Nick said almost in a panic.

Blaine couldn't resist punching his friend in the arm, "Gee Nick, they're hippies not a gang of murderers. The worst they probably are is draft dodgers and that could only be the guys. What do you think the girls did?"

"I don't know, maybe drugs." Nick spat out unmindful of the volume of his voice.

"Not likely," a female voice sounded from beside them. They looked over to see Quinn standing there, baby still cradled in her arms. "Kurt wouldn't allow it; me neither for that matter. We're not squatters either if that is what you are thinking; this house is in my name. We all have reasons not to want to be found, though none of us are running from the law."

"We're sorry," Blaine said, feeling he had to speak for the two of them, knowing Nick all too well. "I guess you could say we have lived a rather sheltered life."

Quinn seemed to eye them for a minute, "Yes, well, perhaps you should remember that everyone has a story, and its best to let them tell it before coming up with one on your own."

"So what's your story?" Nick asked eagerly.

"Nope, you don't get to come here and learn the details of my life just because Kurt seems to trust you, though, I honestly don't know why he does. It's not like you could understand any of us." She said turning her back on the two. Nick ran after her making apologies leaving Blaine alone on the car.

Night was falling when Puck and Jeff returned and headed straight into the house. Blaine sat there on the car still clutching his blazer tight around his shoulders. Everyone had gone into the house by now, save him. Blaine was left alone with his thoughts. The more they raced, the more he wanted to join into the pandemonium in the house to make his mind just stop. Nevertheless, try as he might he couldn't make the move to end the misery and confusion brought about by his brain.

His mind kept returning to Quinn's breasts, pert and on display unashamed, and his lack of response. His lack of response ever when the time seemed appropriate by all social standards. He was seventeen years old damn it. A healthy, seemingly well-adjusted seventeen-year-old boy. A boy who never once had a girlfriend, nor wanted one. Who found no interest in the Playboys smuggled into school by his friends. Whose boners only seemed to emerge in gym class or any other time there was not a female form in sight. A boy who had to bite his cheek earlier when Kurt was shirtless leaning over the engine of his friend's car...

His thoughts were interrupted by a weight landing on his shoulders. He turned to see Kurt draping a blanket over his shoulders. "It's getting cold out here; do you want to go inside?" He asked but the look on his face seemed to say he knew the answer.

"Not right now, I'm sort of in the middle of an existential crisis I think," Blaine said, shaking his head trying to get his thoughts in order.

"Do you mind if I join you while you try to figure out the meaning of life itself?" Kurt asked bumping their shoulders together. "It's just that Puck bought hamburger meat while he was in town with your friend and I can't stomach the smell of cooking flesh."

The sadness in Kurt's eyes brought all other thoughts in Blaine's brain to a screeching halt. "You don't eat meat?" Blaine asked turning fully to Kurt.

"I used to, until I started thinking about what that meant. I felt like a hypocrite speaking about how all creatures deserved life, yet eating flesh to sate my own appetite. I am not the only one here though Rachel is the same. I think everyone else is tired of only vegetables, bread, cheese and eggs. I don't fault them, especially now that our supply is running low. We only have potatoes and beans left over from the last harvest so..."

"Harvest?" Blaine asked, suddenly wanting to know more about life here.

Kurt smiled at him with such warmth Blaine almost forgot the silence Kurt had been giving him since the clearing. "We have a garden; it supplies most of our food. Money is kind of tight, not much coming in, so we do what we can to make it easier. It helps only having to buy dry good."

"What do you do for money?" Blaine had to know.

"I'm an artist... of sorts" Kurt told him ducking his head shyly, a move that almost felt out of place on the man. "When the others leave they usually sell them on the road or in bigger cities and send the money back. Plus, when they stay they help out as they can. Usually though, they need the money more."

Blaine's excitement grew the more Kurt talked to him. "Why don't you set up a studio, or go out and sell your own painting. I mean why stay here it's not your house after all, you're free."

"I guess technically you are right," Kurt conceded but the dark look on his face told Blaine this wasn't his entire story. "But I belong here. I couldn't leave Quinn all alone with Beth. It just doesn't seem right."

Blaine steeled himself for his next question, something that had been eating at him since the clearing. "Kurt is Beth your daughter?"

Kurt's laughter struck at Blaine in the silence, it seemed so out of place for the question. "No, I did not father Quinn's baby. Let's just say, Quinn and I am not compatible in that area. Come on we are eating in the clearing tonight, the table is not big enough for eleven. So come help me start a fire."

They worked in silence building a fire in the fire pit Blaine hadn't noticed before. By the time it was truly catching, voices broke the silence as the others made their way carrying dishes piled with food. Conversation flowed easily as long as they stayed on the subject of music, anything else that was brought up brought tension along with it. Nothing was said to bring the tension, it was more the undercurrent that a disagreement might be made. Blaine passed on the hamburger Jeff offered him, just so he could sit next to Kurt and not see the sick look as he watched the others devour the meat.

Eventually Puck brought out a guitar and like a well-rehearsed group they began singing. Soon Blaine joined in, followed by Nick and Jeff. It was nice until Puck played the opening to a song none of the Warblers knew. As it turned out, the others must have learned this protest song on their travels. Blaine listened to the lyrics liking the sentiment that it spoke. He was losing himself in the music when Jeff spoke up.

"I honestly don't understand why everyone is so against the war." It was a simple statement, and Blaine knowing Jeff, knew he didn't mean to offend. He really just didn't understand. The staff at Dalton frowned upon talk of the war, so most of the students didn't really understand why they were fighting, or why so many people seemed against it. All they knew was what, if anything, they heard at home, or if they were industrious, read in the newspaper.

The guitar twanged to a stop as Puck threw it down. "Easy for you to say Prep boy when it won't be you out there dying in the jungle. When it's not your friends out there on the front line. For what? Killing kids is not patriotic."

Jeff sat dumbstruck and the anger was palpable in the group. Blaine jumped as Kurt spoke next to him, "Puck I honestly think he doesn't understand. I don't think he was being critical."

"Then he needs to be informed!" Puck shouted at Kurt, "Just because he can hide behind his 1-S doesn't mean the rest of us have that luxury." He turned once again on Jeff whose eyes were wide and fearful. "How many friends do you have serving? How much family? Is the war going to be okay until you know someone over there? Until you know someone killing and on the verge of death every day? Until you know someone who dreads going to the mailbox because their papers might have come? Well congratulations, the war just got real."

"Puck!" Kurt said in warning, a warning that went unheeded.

"Because guess what prep school, you now know three lucky guys that couldn't get exempted from the draft. Do we have any less of a right to live than you?"

The movement beside him made Blaine jerk as Kurt stood. Power seemed to course through his body as he said sternly, "That's enough, Puck! He doesn't know." His voice softened, "he doesn't know Puck, and yelling at him is not going to help." A silent conversation seemed to pass between the two men. Puck bristled for a minute before bending down to gather his guitar.

"It's getting late; I'll show you boys where you can sleep." Kurt said. No one protested, they just gathered their things in silence.

When Blaine stepped into the farmhouse for the first time, two things struck him. First was how clean everything was. True, pillows covered the floor in place of real furniture in the leaving room, but everything was clean and inviting. The second was how colorful everything was. Bright colored paint covered the wall in flowers, symbols and swirls a stark contrast to the while peeling paint of the exterior. Blaine trailed behind Kurt up the stair with Nick and Jeff. Next to the stairs, an amazing sunset was painted. The details and colors pulled at Blaine's heart and he longed to stand there and drink it all in. He pulled himself away though to continue following the man who obviously painted it. He opened a door at the top of the stairs that was painted like the night sky. "This is my room; I figured you wouldn't want to sleep downstairs with everyone else." He told them gesturing them into the room.

"But where will you sleep?" Blaine asked, not wanting to displace him for their own comfort.

"I'm going to sleep outside tonight," seeing Blaine about to protest, Kurt spoke over anything he was going to say. "Don't worry I like it. It helps me when I need time to think."

Blaine took in his surroundings. The room was painted to look like a meadow, including the ceiling which showed the aurora borealis. The bed lay on the floor. Soft quilts and blankets spilled over the edge of the downy looking mattress. It looked inviting, but something else pulled at Blaine. He didn't want to sleep here with Nick and Jeff. They were his friends, but tonight he wanted to learn more about their host.

"Would it be okay if I slept in the clearing too? I have a lot on my mind; and what you said about it helping you think... I think I need that." Blaine said, ignoring the confused looks his friends were shooting him.

Kurt eyed him a moment before speaking, "Sure, if you want to, let me just grab some blankets and you can walk out with me."

Before they left the house for the night, Kurt asked Puck to stay with Quinn and Beth for the night. Quinn seemed more put out by the request than Blaine thought it warranted, as it seemed that Kurt was just looking out for them. They were strangers to this weird self-made family. He then made sure Mike was staying with the other girls in the living room. Once Kurt was assured everyone would be safe, they exited the house once more.

"I like what you did with the house." Blaine told him as they walked back to the fire. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think it was me?"

Blaine blushed, "You said you were an artist... I just assumed..."

Kurt smiled, "you were right, it was me... And thank you."

They laid out blankets in silence on opposite sides of the fire pit, close enough to take advantage of the warmth, but far enough away not to get too hot. Kurt sprawled out on his back, facing the night sky just visible through the limbs of the trees overhead. Blaine followed suit and they lay in companionable silence.

Blaine's mind raced from thought to thought. After such a short time at this place, so many questions demanded to be answered. Some questions had sat at the back of his mind for so long, but he refused to acknowledge them. He didn't want to have to face what the answers could mean. Others were new, most having to do with the man next to him. Without thought, one sprung from his mouth.

"Are you really in danger of being drafted?" He blurted.

Kurt looked over at him, and seeing the panicked look in Blaine's eyes, sat up to face him better. Blaine followed suit once more. "Yes," Kurt whispered. "Honestly, I thought I was safe. I mean I knew it was a risk only applying to Art schools, but it was what I wanted to do. I knew that Art school wouldn't earn me an 1-S. I tried to get an1-A-O as a contentious objector, but without a religion to back me up, apparently my objections to war are invalid. I couldn't even get a 1-Y, even though it is true. After the interview... I have never hoped for health problems before in my life. I'm as healthy as can be." A sad chuckle punctuated the statement.

Blaine could see Kurt's eyes sparkling with unshed tears in the fire light. He whispered his next question. "Do you know anyone serving?"

"A lot of guys from school, but only two I'm close with. Artie was drafted about six months ago, he was just sent to Vietnam. And um... Finn... Um... Finn enlisted after we graduated pretty much as soon as he turned 18. He was the closest thing I had to a real brother... But we really couldn't be more different. He sees it as an honor to serve, he wanted to go and fight." Kurt shook his head, and Blaine was almost sure he was trying to stop his thoughts from flowing. "How about you?"

"Puck was right, none of the guys I know who have graduated will be drafted. They all went to college. Hell, I haven't even had my evaluation yet and I know I am safe... Got my acceptance letter to Kent State last month. We are so sheltered... No wonder he hates us..."

Kurt shook his head, "Puck doesn't hate you, he's jealous. He tried everything to get out of this damn war too; they called him a coward. He's not. We're not. His mom was a survivor, an honest to god lived through Nazi Germany as a Jew, survivor. If this was World War II he would be one of the first to sign up, but it's not. We aren't the great American soldiers swooping in to save the day. Not this time. We all have our reasons not to want to go die in this war. Puck doesn't want to be a deadbeat like his dad. Mike... Well it's been hard for him; people assume he is Vietnamese, Tina too. They aren't and it shouldn't matter, they were both born here. Mike is Chinese, Tina's Korean, but people just see Asian and assume the worst. He fears for his life if he is sent to war, and not from the enemy."

"And you?" Blaine whispered. "What is your reason?"

A tension ran through Blaine's body at the passion in Kurt's eyes as he spoke. It was a sensation he couldn't name, but a feeling he never wanted to be without. "A bullet never taught anyone a lesson. It never brought peace. Violence isn't the answer to the world's problems. And we never will end suffering while we use it as the first course of action. War is the instrument of power, nothing more."

Blaine smiled. "I like that, I like that a lot."

Silence returned, and the pair lay down. Sleep over took Kurt first. Blaine lay across from him watching his features dance in the firelight. He couldn't help but think him beautiful, though he was clearly a man. After years of suppressing the idea, it was becoming clear to Blaine that he didn't want the soft womanly curves of the few girls he knew. He wanted strength and hard lines. He wanted long strong limbs. He wanted, desired, a man. The thought terrified him. One word echoed through his mind... deviant. But, even that word couldn't suppress the desire to kiss the slightly parted lips of the man sleeping across from him. That was the image that Blaine finally drifted off to sleep to.

When Blaine woke the next morning, he was alone in the clearing. Kurt's makeshift bed was gone and the fire had died sometime in the night. He made his way back to the house carrying his own blankets with him. Kurt was already working on the car.

"Morning," he greeted Kurt as he neared.

"Good morning, there is bread in the kitchen and fresh butter and milk if you want it. Quinn, Beth and your friends are already up." Kurt said, not extracting himself from the work he was doing. Inside Blaine made his way past the stairs and into the kitchen. The walls were swirled with color adding life and vibrancy to the space. Nick and Jeff sat at a purple table drinking milk and smiling over slices of fresh bread. It seemed the tension from last night was gone. Quinn stood at a wood stove, an old coffee percolator in her hand.

"Coffee?" She asked in greeting.

"Yes, please." Blaine said slicing off a chunk of bread and smoothing butter over it. He had just taken a bite when Quinn placed a mug of dark coffee in front of him. "Oh my god, this is the best thing I think I have ever eaten." He praised.

"Then I will have to pass on you compliments to Kurt." Quinn smiled. "I never had the patience for baking bread. Plus Beth is still up most of the night, so waking up a 5:00 to do the baking and morning chores is not something I do."

"Morning chores?" Nick asked eyeing the bread with clear want.

Quinn chuckled before pushing it over to him. "Every morning Kurt gets up, feeds the animals, milks the cows and goats, and gathers the eggs. When it's just us, he bakes about once a week. Right now there are just too many people so he has been baking every morning."

"What does everyone else do?" Blaine asked, annoyed for Kurt that it seemed he did all the work.

Quinn seemed to pick up on his annoyance and bristled a bit, "I take care of Beth and help out when he needs me too. The others do what they can when they are here."

Jeff and Nick took over the conversation. They found out that Beth was three months old, and that most of the group would be moving on today. Only Puck would be staying for another few days. Blaine was just finishing his second cup of coffee when Kurt entered the room. His chest was bare and an old pair of coveralls slung low on his hips, the top hanging down behind him. Blaine swallowed hard. Grease covered his hand and spotted his chest and face. He was a picture of masculinity and Blaine felt the effects immediately. The room seemed to heat up and he felt like everyone was staring at him, that they all knew. He scrambled to think of anything to make his body stop reacting to the sight. He focused on all the pictures in girlie magazines he had ever glimpsed, he thought of Quinn's breasts on display, he thought of war and Kurt being drafted. While the other thoughts had helped, the last one made is blood run cold and any lingering arousal disappeared.

Kurt finished scrubbing his hands and turned to the group. "It's all fixed; you can head out when you want."

Nick and Jeff both thanked him, and Quinn walked out with them. Kurt gave Blaine a curious look so he spoke up. "Thank you for everything... Um... Would it be okay...? Could I..."

Kurt tilted his head in a sweet way that made Blaine blush deeply. "What is it Blaine?"

"Do you think I could come back and visit?" He finally got out in a rush.

Kurt smiled warmly at him, but his eyes read of confusion. "Sure, anytime."

Blaine thanked him again before rushing out to join his friends. Nick was standing by the passenger door, waiting for Blaine to crawl into the back. When they were bumping back down the driveway, Blaine turned around to see Kurt taking baby Beth in his arms. He lifted his hand in a shy wave, which Kurt and Quinn returned laughing.